A Kiss with a Fist
by SuperSpy
Summary: Lily Evans has spent a very large portion of her life wanting to punch James Potter in the face - but when she finally does so, it's not for the reasons she expected. L/J.


**Summary:** Lily Evans has spent a very large portion of her life wanting to punch James Potter in the face - but when she finally does so, it's not for the reasons she expected. L/J.

**Disclaimer: **No. Sigh.

**A/N:** Sooo… basically, I just wanted to write a story where Lily punches James in the face. :)

* * *

**Kiss with a Fist**

"You hit me once, I hit you back.

You gave a kick, I gave a slap.

You smashed a plate over my head - then I set fire to our bed."

Florence & The Machine, _A Kiss with a Fist_

_

* * *

_

She tried not to be angry - which was quite a feat for Lily Evans, considering Lily's most common emotion toward James Potter seemed to be some variant of anger. But despite her best efforts, her hands clenched into fists at her side, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. Her face flushed as she bit back the venomous words that were itching to be screamed. James - looking as appealing as ever, Lily was reluctant to admit - sat across the common room, laughing with Sirius, and coolly unaware that Lily was plotting the many ways in which she would destroy him.

Lily was about halfway through the ways she could murder him beginning with 'g' - guillotine, systematic gutting - when she couldn't take it any longer. She stood abruptly, her Transfiguration homework falling from her lap and colliding with the floor, and stalked across the room. She didn't even hesitate as she reached James and shoved him right off his chair.

"Bloody hell!" James shouted, his glasses slipping down his nose. "What was that for?"

Lily only glared at James, who was carefully picking himself up off the floor.

"Well?" he asked, giving her an imploring look as he dusted a bit of dirt from his jumper. Her gaze narrowed, she drew back her arm and with a fleshy _crack!_ Lily Evans punched James Potter right in the face.

* * *

_47 hours earlier…_

Lily Evans was dead in the water - and she knew it. It was a bit like a slap in the face, really, finally realising that she fancied James Potter. It almost made her hate him, just a little bit. Because it was terribly unfair, the way he could make her heart stutter just by smiling at her, and how adorable he looked when his glasses sat crooked on his face. His oh-so-attractive face.

And his sodding hair. She'd started to develop a bit of an obsession with his hair. And his arms. And his…well, _him_ in general.

Which was _bad_. So very, very _bad_.

Lily tended to use a lot of italics when thinking about James Potter.

She watched him from her spot in the library, peering over the edge of her potions book to spy on him and his friends who sat a few tables away. When they'd arrived there to work on their potions essays they had been thoughtful enough to ask Lily if she wanted to join them, but she'd refused, citing that she needed _quiet_ to work, and that James and his fellow Marauders were anything _but_ quiet. The truth was, however, that Lily Evans often struggled to think clearly when she was situated too close to James Potter. She had discovered during their recent Head's duties that James Potter smelled rather appealing. A little _too_ appealing.

Lily also hated him a bit for that.

Somewhere.

Beneath all the fluttery feelings.

Lily sighed, slammed her book shut and rested her forehead against the table.

What had happened? She used to honestly despise James, and she was wont to admit that things had been much simpler then. The only urge she'd ever been consumed by when he was near was the desire to punch him in the face for being such an insufferable prat.

And then he had to go and become a decent bloke. Damn him.

And now, _now_ she had to fight back all sorts of urges when she was near James. Like the urge she often had to run her hands through his untidy black hair. Or the one that she tried to ignore the most - the one where she wanted to snog the living daylights out of him. That one was simply unacceptable.

Especially since James seemed to have lost all desire to do such a thing to her.

Ah, yes. Therein lies the rub.

It seemed that in lieu of their friendship, James Potter seemed to have gotten over his infatuation with Lily, and had become all sorts of nice and respectable and…just plain friendly. No more infuriatingly rude comments or incessant date requests, only infuriatingly kind gestures and incessant honourable behaviour. Lily would have given her favourite set of scales for James to comment on how snoggable she looked just _once_. But no, it was only respectful comments about her looks these days.

The sodding little bugger.

Why was it that when she finally fancied James, he ceased to pursue her? It was bloody unfair is what it was. Lily was beginning to realise that if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in constant torment, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

Which, you know, made Lily a little mad at him.

When she heard someone take the seat across the table from her, she assumed it was Chelsea.

"Go away," she muttered into the table. "I'm wallowing in despair."

"Really?" said James. "Why's that, Evans?"

Lily sat up, her green eyes wide. "James!"

"Lily!" he said, mimicking her alarmed tone and flashing his cheeky grin. She frowned at him, picked up her book and walloped him on the arm. It made her feel a bit better when he winced.

"Ouch! Relax, Lil!" he said, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"Nothing," she bit out. Her eyes were drawn to the flex of his muscles beneath his white school shirt. His eyebrows receded into his hair.

"Oi, right, I completely believe you."

She sighed, packing away her anger into a neat little package with a bow. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just a bit edgy, I suppose."

"Clearly," he smirked. "What's bugging you? Homework troubles?"

She laughed sharply. "No."

"Ah, yes," he said adjusting his glasses as he smiled at her. "I always forget you're such a bright witch, Miss Evans. Homework's never a problem for you."

Her stomach twisted as he smiled at her, and she had to look down at the table.

"What is it then?" he asked, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. "Boy troubles?"

She looked up at him, stricken. "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged, his brows furrowed. "You're acting odd. Remus tells me a man is usually the cause of any woman's odd behaviour."

"That's not true," Lily frowned. "We aren't all swotty little girls whose only concern is to get married."

James scratched his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he backtracked. "Bugger. Remus always explains things better than I do."

Lily rolled her eyes and watched as James picked up her discarded quill and twirled it between his fingers. Her focus was caught by the rough calluses on his hands - from playing Quidditch all the time, she assumed.

"Hey James?" she asked tentatively. Lily had decided to do something rather dangerous.

"Yeah?"

She took a deep breath.

"Would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

The words were a little shakier than she intended, but they were out there, and Lily thrilled at hearing her finally voice them. She looked up at him, watched the way his hazel eyes were confused for a moment before clearing.

"Yeah, sure, Lil," he said, smiling.

"Okay. Well, good, then."

Her limbs suddenly felt tingly.

"So, I'll meet you in the entrance hall at one?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. She nodded.

"Yes, that sounds fine."

"Brilliant," he said, smiling briefly before he stood from the table. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his friends. "I should get back. Padfoot threatened to light my homework on fire if I spent too much time over here."

He gave her one more crooked grin before leaving.

"Yeah, alright," murmured Lily, watching as he slid into his seat, his back to her. He was considerably less gleeful than she hoped he would be. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ducked her head when the Marauders turned to look over at the table. She only looked back up, when she heard the muffled sounds of anxious chatter. She was just in time to see James sling his bag over his shoulder and exit the library.

* * *

She would have been on time to meet him, if she hadn't realised halfway to the entrance hall that she'd forgotten to put on deodorant. She was aware as she bounded up the steps to the girl's dormitory that she could have taken care of it with a spell, but her hands had been shaking so terribly all morning that she really didn't trust herself.

He was waiting, leaning against the banister of the staircase, when she arrived.

"Sorry I'm late," she panted, tugging on the ends of her sleeves. "I – er – forgot something."

"No worries," James said, his hands shoved into his pockets. "You're ready to go?"

"Yes," she said softly, watching as he led the way out of Hogwarts.

Lily glanced over at him, eyeing him suspiciously. His brow was furrowed, creasing his forehead. He kept his eyes on the winding path ahead, leading them to Hogsmeade. His shoulders were stiff with tension.

His gaze flicked to hers, his lips quirking at the corners. "Have I got something on my face?"

Lily shook her head. "No. That's the problem," she said without thinking.

He frowned, his pace slowing. "Problem?"

Bugger.

"I just…" she trailed off for a moment, and smoothed down her hair. She'd expected him to be more excited, smiling like a giddy loon. Nervous even, but he wasn't, and… "It's nothing."

James, his expression puzzled, let the subject drop, but picked up another. "Did you finish Sluggy's essay yet?"

"You shouldn't call him 'Sluggy', James," Lily sighed, as they trudged along the road. Small houses had cropped up around them, having reached the outskirts of the town. "It's disrespectful."

James gave her a crooked grin. "Teacher's pet."

"Class clown."

"Everyone loves a class clown."

"Everyone loves to _laugh_ at a class clown," she corrected with a grin.

He chuckled. "Touche, Miss Evans."

She fixed him with a grin, and James returned it.

"Hey," he said as the houses changed to shops, "Can we stop in at Zonko's? Sirius asked me to pick up something for him."

"He's not here?"

"Nah," James said. "Detention. He decided it was a good idea to charm Minerva's teapot to sing the British anthem."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

He nodded, heading for Zonko's. He glanced at his watch. "Listen, how about you save us a table at the Three Broomsticks, eh? I'll only be a minute."

"Er," Lily hesitated. "Alright."

"Brill," he said, flashing his crooked smile before jogging to the joke shop and disappearing into the crowd. Lily was left standing in the middle of the cobblestone street, wondering what exactly was going on.

Nothing was turning out as she'd expected, she thought as she turned down the street toward the tavern. Where was charming, exuberant James, trying to sweep her off her feet? He felt very…un-swept. And he'd left her, too. Who did that on a date? No one, least of all James Potter. She'd tried to get him to leave her alone for six years, and now – well he couldn't seem to get away fast enough.

As she pushed through the doorway of the Three Broomsticks and wound through the crowd to find a vacant table, she wondered if perhaps she'd made a mistake by asking out James.

* * *

When James Potter finally strolled into the tavern, it was nearly half an hour later, and Lily was into her second round of butterbeer and her sixtieth round of wondering what on earth was going on.

"Sorry," said James as he took the chair across from her. "Zonko's was a mad house."

"Right, of course," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Got you something though," said James. He was fighting a grin as he reached into his pocket and drew out a small, brown paper bag.

Lily eyed it warily. "What is it?"

He held out the bag to her. "Open it," he said, grinning at her hesitation, "and you'll see."

With a deep breath she reached out and took the bag from him. It weighed heavily against her fingers, which did nothing to sooth her worry. James Potter was, after all, first and foremost a Marauder. He always had a trick up his sleeve.

Tentatively, she opened the bag and tipped its contents into her hand.

"What is it?" she repeated, staring at the small round ball that rested in her palm. "It looks like a Remembrall."

"It's called a Goof Ball," James explained, "It makes up jokes based on the conversations you're having."

Lily lifted the ball up to eyelevel to inspect it. The glass was heavy in her hand, and filled with a cheery yellow smoke, but nothing else happened.

"I think it's broken," she said. James shook his head. "It takes a while to get acquainted with the conversation before it will start compiling jokes."

Lily placed the sphere on the table between them. "It's interesting," she said. "Thank you."

James looked embarrassed. "It's stupid, isn't it?" he said, running his fingers through his hair. "Sorry. I just thought…"

"You thought what?"

He sighed, pushed his glasses up his nose. "I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess that maybe you could use a laugh now and then."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm usually a swot?"

"That's not what I meant," he said, sighing. "You always put words in my mouth."

"Explain what you meant, then," said Lily, "because I don't understand."

Frankly, Lily was becoming far too acquainted with the confusion she felt.

James sighed again, and leaned across the table. "I thought you could use a laugh," he said slowly, "because then I'd get to see you smile more."

Ah. There's Charming James, the sneaky git.

She couldn't help the grin that crept up on her. "I see," she said. "But you're wrong, you know."

James gave her a quizzical look.

"I don't need a silly joke ball to make me laugh," she explained, her hand resting on his forearm, "Since I've got _you_ for a friend."

She was sure she imagined the electricity that raced between them as her hand lay lightly on his arm.

He laughed then. "Huh, I suppose not. I guess I'll just take my gift back, then." He used the arm she touched to swipe the ball off the table, but Lily stopped him before he could succeed. She picked up the ball and clutched it to her chest.

"You can't take it back," said Lily, flashing him a grin. "It's mine."

He smiled.

* * *

They spent the next three hours together, laughing at the silly jokes the Goof Ball gave them, and sipping butterbeer, and talking, and despite her worries in the beginning, Lily began to realise that being on a date with James was the easiest thing in the world.

She loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how he grew excessively animated when he was discussing something he liked. She liked the way he had a knack for making her laugh, even at the silliest things. She liked how he asked her about things she enjoyed, and made up silly games for them to play, like guessing which man at the bar – when he succeeded in getting properly smashed, of course – would be the first to pluck up the courage to hit on Madame Rosmerta. James had a talent for picking out the sorry fool who would try. As they paused at the portrait of the Fat Lady, James told her it was because he knew desperation when he saw it.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He just shrugged. "You wouldn't understand."

She doubted that. She doubted that a lot. Especially with the way her heart was flip-flopping in her chest. His hazel eyes were warm as he watched her.

"I told Remus I'd meet him later," he said. "So I'll leave you here, alright?"

Lily nodded. She couldn't seem to put words together. This was it. This was the end of the date. Her hands suddenly felt sweaty. Brilliant.

She tried to nonchalantly dry them on her robes as James stepped closer to her. His hand reached up, but it didn't move toward her cheek like she expected it to. Instead, it stopped at her shoulder, where it picked a piece of lint from her robes.

James smiled. "Take care now, Lily," he said, before he turned and headed down the corridor.

Lily Evans blinked, hardly believing it. James hadn't kissed her. He hadn't even _tried_ to kiss her. It was unbelievable. Unprecedented. Astonishing. It was _horrible_.

Because that was it then, wasn't it? That made it blatantly clear that James Potter no longer harboured anything more than friendship for Lily Evans.

Bloody sodding hell.

Lily stumbled, her back against the wall, expressionless. Hurt rolled through her, from her hairline to her toes. She'd missed her chance. She's been far too stubborn for far too long and she'd mucked it all up.

Now, she'd die an old spinster with thirty cats in a house that smelt of blue cheese. There was no avoiding it.

Lily sighed, feeling too depressed to even muster a tear at her own sad fate. She mumbled the password to the Fat Lady, slunk through the common room and up the stairs and fell face first into her bed, not moving till morning.

* * *

However, when morning finally dawned bright and cold, all of Lily's sadness had mutated into anger. Unjust, perhaps, but anger all the same.

It was why Lily sat fuming in her chair, devising ways to punish him for toying with her heart. She imagined beating him within an inch of his life, but settled for storming across the room, and punching him in the face.

"Bloody hell!" James shouted, his left hand pressed against his eye. "Lily, you mad cow, what's going on?"

"That," she told him darkly, "is for making me like you."

She took a step closer, her voice low, still furious. "And this," she said, "is for not kissing me."

Lily drew her am back, but before she could land her next blow. James Potter's hand caught hers easily. His hand was larger than hers, and his grip was strong. Her traitorous heart gave a squishy _flip-flop_ at the contact.

"Wait," he said, grabbing her left hand as she tried to smack him, "What are you talking about?"

"We had a date," said Lily flatly, "and you didn't kiss me."

James frowned. "We had a date?"

Lily slapped his hands away from her. "What do you mean, 'we had a date?' you prat! Yesterday!"

"Yesterday was a date?" he asked, looking perplexed as he scratched his head. "I had no idea."

"No idea? I asked you out!"

"To Hogsmeade," he said, "as friends."

"No," said Lily. "Not as friends."

"Oh."

"Yes," snapped Lily. "_Oh_, indeed." She crossed her arms over her chest. James studied her for a moment before breaking into a broad grin.

"You asked me out," he said.

"Brilliant. You're finally catching on."

"You _like_ me," he said smugly, pointing his index finger at her.

Lily huffed. "Not anymore."

James took a step toward her, his hands finding her hips and tugging her closer. "Oh really?" he said. "Since when?"

She glowered at him. "Since it became apparent that you don't return the sentiment."

"And what gave you that impression?"

"When you – wait_, impression_?"

"Yes, impression. It means -"

"I know what it means!" she snapped.

James smirked at her, obviously amused. "Then you'd have figured out by now that I do, as you so delicately put it, 'return the sentiment'_._"

"You do?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Desperately."

Lily blinked. "So this was all just a big…misunderstanding?"

"So it would seem."

Huh.

Lily was a bit stunned in the absence of her anger. Slowly, and to her utter horror, she became aware of the numerous occupants of the common room watching her, and a hot wave of embarrassment washed over her.

"Well," she muttered, straightening her robes. "I'll just be going, then."

But before she could exit the room and berate herself for being unbelievably ridiculous about absolutely everything, James caught her hand.

"So I'm to go un-punished then, am I?" he asked.

"What?"

"Well," James explained. "As you said, I was in bad form last night, leaving out the first date kiss."

Lily was speechless as he drew her closer. He leaned him, his hands framing her face.

"I figure," he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, "I'd better make it up to you, unless I want to get punched again. Which I don't," he added with a smile, "just to be clear."

And then he kissed her, hard on the mouth. His hands fisted in her hair, and she revelled in the way he made her feel as if she was floating on air.

And Lily Evans decided that she should punch James Potter in the face _much_ more often.

* * *

**A/N: **Hmmm. So, yeah, this one ran away from me a little bit. Anyways, thanks for reading and feel free to let me know what you think!


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